She stared at the woman who stood at the large wood doors of the hall. Completely covered in a light blue cloak, she was the tallest female Annwyl had ever come across.

“Not sure what business that is of yours, lady.” Annwyl wondered whether she would kill her slowly or just outright.

The woman came forward, the cloak swirling around her bare feet. “I’ve traveled far to meet with you, Lady Annwyl, but I don’t like to waste my time or bandy words about.”

“And neither do I. So perhaps you should get to your point before I lose my patience.”

Annwyl felt a hand grip her shoulder and looked up to see Morfyd beside her. “Annwyl, I’d like to present Queen Rhiannon of the House of Gwalchmai fab Gwyar.” Annwyl cringed. What an ugly family name. She would hate to be stuck with something like that. “My mother.”

The feeling to bury one’s head in a ditch can be an overwhelming one, but Annwyl fought it all the same. The queen stood in front of her. As human. She snatched back the hood of her cloak. Snow white hair tumbled down around her shoulders and an expression of intense dissatisfaction rippled across her face. She didn’t even seem to notice the gasp that went up from the court when they saw the mark of her own Claiming, a black dragon brand that went from her jaw down her neck and disappeared under her cloak.

But now Annwyl understood why all Rhiannon’s children were beautiful. As human Rhiannon was absolutely stunning.

Annwyl looked at those who accompanied Rhiannon. A beautiful red-headed female who looked as innocent and sweet as any daddy’s girl. And three males who were clearly brothers. All quite beautiful in their own way. The one with silver hair looked as if he appeared before her under protest. The golden-haired one openly leered at her. And the blue-haired one grinned so happily she could do nothing but give him a quick smile back.

“My point, lady, is that it is time to take your rightful place beside my son.”

Annwyl took a deep, shaky breath. The bitch had just ordered her back to Fearghus. Ordered her. Her hands clenched into fists as the rage welled up. She could control the emotion now, but that only made it more deadly. Gwenvael must have seen it. He shut his eyes in resignation.

“And perhaps, lady, you should mind your own business.” Morfyd’s fingers dug deep into her shoulder as warning. A warning she ignored. “What goes on between Fearghus and myself is our concern. Not yours. And you need to remember that.”

She noticed Rhiannon’s children desperately trying to get her attention while Morfyd came dangerously close to tearing her arm off.

“Perhaps you forget who I am.”

“I forget nothing. And pray tell me, lady, how is your mate’s tail?”

At that point, Morfyd threw up her hands and walked back to Brastias’s side while Rhiannon’s sons cringed and the beautiful redhead dropped her head in her hands.

Rhiannon smiled. A disturbing sight to say the least. Unlike her children, her human teeth still resembled fangs more than anything else. “You know, Lady Annwyl, any woman strong enough to impale a dragon as mighty as Bercelak the Great, should be strong enough to go claim what is hers.”

Interesting turn from the queen. Annwyl expected her to rip her head off instead. At least she expected her to try. “I appreciate your concern, lady. But I am at a loss as to why your son did not come himself.”

And save me from his damn kin!

“He foolishly fears that he will bring great risk to your safety. I now know there is nothing to fear. You are a deadly adversary. I doubt anyone here would dare your wrath. I know I wouldn’t.”

Annwyl wondered for a moment if Rhiannon spoke these words just for the benefit of the nobles. But she doubted the dragon would be bothered. The female was dangerously honest—foe or friend. “But since my son is such a—”

“Prat?” Gwenvael offered.

“Insidious harpy?” Briec countered.

“Concerned mate,” their mother spat out between gritted teeth as she silenced them both with a glare. “I have a gift for you.”

Annwyl readied herself. The queen may be honest, but Annwyl still didn’t take anything she said at face value. “Gift” could leave her covered in blood and eyeless. “Really?”

“I offer you my loyalty and the loyalty of all dragons in Dark Plains.”

Annwyl wasn’t sure what that should mean to her. “Oh. That’s very . . . um . . . sweet.”

Morfyd returned to her side and leaned down to whisper loudly in her ear so all could hear. “In case you didn’t know, that means if anyone ever tries to strike out against you or your throne they will bring the entire dragon kingdom of Dark Plains and all our allies down on their heads. It happened once before about one thousand years ago. When the dragons were done, they’d wiped the land clean.”

A jolt passed through Annwyl’s body as some of the humans in the hall began to inch their way toward the exit. And Hamish couldn’t run fast enough. She wondered what he’d originally planned.

Annwyl looked at Fearghus’s mother. “You give this loyalty to me? A human?”

“Yes.”

“Because of Fearghus?”

“No. I give nothing to my children. It all must be earned. And you have earned this. You’ve done very well. Without us. And without Fearghus.” She gave a bored sigh. “Simply put, you’ve impressed me, Annwyl the Bloody. And I do not impress easily.”

“I . . . uh . . . thank you?” For once Annwyl couldn’t think of a thing to say.